


Thirst

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Post-Movie(s), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: Out in the wastes, he thinks of her, lets himself dwell on memories of her. He can’t make assumptions, not when he comes and goes like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [Youkaiyume](http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/)'s [adorable Maxiosa drawings](http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/post/163337742123/another-unfinished-maxfuriosa-sketch-i-unearthed).

Max arrives in the middle of the day, when the shadows are black underfoot and the sun is at its most brutal. He’s recognised at the Citadel, by now, waved into the shade by a lookout who no longer looks Wretched. 

“The boss is with the council today,” one of the blackthumbs tells him, correctly reading the way Max is looking around him after driving off the lift. He grunts in acknowledgement, moves his car to what has become a familiar parking space. It’s been left empty, though it’s a good spot.

The machine shop is heaving with people and noise and clatter. It’s usually the Citadel noise he finds easiest to bear, the sound of car mechanics at work. It’s still jarring. 

He’s wondering where to go when Toast comes briskly up to him, her toolbelt bristling with spanners, hands oily from an engine. 

“You need water,” she tells him, not bothering with hello. He hums his thanks as she directs him to the pipe in the corner of the garage. Citadel water is cold, so fresh you can taste the cleanness of it. 

“My shift’s done, come and eat? Furiosa should be down soon,” Toast says, scrubbing her hands. She watches him as he grunts and nods, openly amused by his attempt to keep his face neutral. 

When they reach the eating hall, they find Capable, Cheedo and the Dag there already. They all hug Max – quick and kind from Capable, who makes sure he has the dinner he needs. Cheedo hugs him tighter, while the Dag is all elbows.

“She’s fine, she’ll be here in a bit,” she says, abrupt and to the point. They keep telling him that. Max suspects they’re remembering his reaction, that time she was bandaged up after a minor skirmish on a trade run, and no one had thought to warn him. Now he busies himself with his pack, getting out the little things he’s found or traded for them: some beads for Cheedo, a bag of seeds for the Dag, a battered wordburger for Capable. He’s already given Toast the little bashed box of Before toothpicks; he knows the Citadel’s supply has run out, but he still associates them with her.

They’re all asking about their gifts – where and how and when he’d found them, what that means about trade routes and the little communities out there – when she arrives.

The mess hall is loud, not as loud as the machine shop but still a big, echoing space full of people. Max never finds it easy to keep his gaze steady in here, especially when he’s just back from the desert. By instinct, he keeps checking the exits, tracking any new arrivals or sudden movements. He does that anyway, it’s not just his eyes seeking Furiosa. But he feels a jolt of pleasure when he sees her, relief at seeing her well, even though they’d said, they’d told him. She’s scanning the room, smiling and speeding up when she spots him. Beside him, Cheedo scoots away, leaving an obvious seat open.

They’re both a little uncertain when she comes up. He’s come back to visit many times since the Fury Road, but this is only the third since they started having sex. He’s fairly sure of his welcome at the Citadel by now, but he doesn’t know if that includes her bed. 

Out in the wastes, he thinks of her, lets himself dwell on memories of her. He can’t make assumptions, not when he comes and goes like this. He’s carrying his pack around partly because he doesn’t know where he’ll be sleeping tonight.

The last time had been easier, because he hadn’t had time to think. He’d arrived as the sun was setting, the garage quiet, and she’d been almost the first person he’d seen. He’d just wanted her, all the more overwhelming for seeing the same need in her face. They’d fallen into each other, hungry and heedless. The vulnerabilities had come out afterwards, but they’d been shared, both already in the middle of it, stumbling over words and silences in the privacy of her room.

Meeting her now feels nakedly public, in this busy space with so many interested eyes on them. There’s a decision to be made – what she wants, what he wants – but this time he’ll have to make his half of it soberly, instead of just letting himself get drunk with the sight of her. 

“Hey,” he says, watches her smile. 

In the end, it’s simple. She looks at him as she gets up from the table, and they leave together, going back to her room. Furiosa unstraps her arm. Max puts down his pack, then takes off his jacket. He keeps glancing at her, noticing the line of her neck, the way the light from the window catches her eyelashes. He’s still staring when she steps into his space and kisses him. She tastes like water.

Like the smell of her skin, it’s a sign of health and strength, of the well-hydrated Citadel. Her lips are soft, not even chapped. Her mouth is like a fresh spring after the stale, parboiled stuff from his car’s tanks. He could drown in her.

“Hi,” she says, smiling against his mouth, fingertips on his jaw as he slides his arms around her. She licks at his top lip until his mouth opens again for her tongue. 

They kiss slowly, relaxing into it, sharing breath. Her skin is warm under his hands as he strokes up her arm, cradles the back of her head. Her body is changing under his touch. Holding her closer, he’s aware of her nipples, peaking under her shirt; his cock is already half hard.

When she pulls away, it’s not to break the connection, just enough to speak. Resting her forehead on his, she’s breathing deeper, soft against his cheek.

“We could…?” She pulls at him, backing towards the bed.

“Mmm.” He’s chasing her mouth, nibbling at her lips. “We could.” 

She draws him down so that they’re lying on their sides, facing each other. The way they land is awkward again, not quite together. There’s another little distance to be crossed. She’s looking down, not meeting his eyes. He realises his own are darting unsteadily again, from her collarbone to her eyes to the soft curve of her lips. 

He takes a deeper breath, shuffles a little closer. She puts her hand on his chest, fingers closing in the fabric of his shirt. Reaching around her, careful not to cage her, he nuzzles at her cheekbone and her nose, until she presses into him, tilting her head to meet his mouth. He holds her tighter, feels her sigh. Letting go of his shirt, she strokes up his side, over his shoulder, holding on to him. 

He can’t help comparing it to the last time he came back. They’re both more cautious, more aware of themselves. Every move is a very conscious choice, a step over a possible barrier. 

Max starts kissing down her neck, her shoulders, one hand cupping her breast. He likes the little sounds she makes when he does that, half gasp and half murmur. She nudges her leg between his, shifting to bring their hips together, grinding hard enough to get a grunt out of him. She grins at that, makes a small, smug noise. He gives her shoulder a soft bite, strokes down her belly to the fastenings of her trousers.

He means to undress her, rucking her shirt up and undoing her leathers, intending to push them down. When she wriggles, trying to help, he can’t resist sliding his hand in, under her underwear, letting it rest between her legs. She pulls his chin back up, kisses him again.

There’s a tickle of hair against his palm, just a hint of wetness where his fingers rest on the warmer lips of her pussy. He leaves his hand there, focuses on just kissing her, deeper and slower, until she pushes against his fingers, spreading herself for him. She gives a sigh of satisfaction when he starts to stroke.

He wants to feel her come, wants to hold her through it, to feel her shake in pleasure and know that he’s done that for her. It's still new, but he’s learning her, knows some of what she likes, his fingers finding the right speed and pressure. After all his hesitations today, this is something he understands, reading her and reacting to her.

She’s kissing him but running out of breath, starting to gasp. He pulls away to kiss her cheeks and nose and chin, watching her as his fingers circle and press. He knows when she’s close to coming, recognises the way her face tightens, her breath turning into soft little moans. Her eyes close and her face scrunches, shivers going through her. He holds her steady and keeps going, cradling her against him until he’s sure she’s finished. 

After a moment, she smiles and stretches in his arms. He’s taken by surprise when she half-sits, enough to prod him onto his back. 

“Now. What would you like?” Her eyes are very dark and very green.

Max is suddenly breathless, his fingers wet with her slick and his cock hard in his leathers. Furiosa snuggles closer, giving him time to decide. She kisses him again, as sweet as water.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
